


A Quarter After One

by insominia



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst with a Happy Ending, Divorced Castiel (Supernatural), Divorced Dean Winchester, Family Feels, Getting Back Together, M/M, Mechanic Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester is a Good Bro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-24
Updated: 2019-03-24
Packaged: 2019-11-29 09:27:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 13,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18221297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/insominia/pseuds/insominia
Summary: It's been almost ten years since Dean Winchester disappeared, leaving nothing behind him but divorce papers and no contact number. Castiel has moved on, he has a wife, a child, a good job and a really nice car. Dean's living the dream with his own garage, so a chance meeting won't change anything, right? They've both moved on. Right?





	1. Chapter 1

"You're a _lifesaver_ ," the woman was saying for about the hundredth time in a row.

But Dean waved her off, ducking his head under the hood, "don't worry about it," he beamed, "she's a real beauty, I should be thanking you. She's a '69, right?" he asked, but it was only small talk, he knew the answer.

"You sure know your cars."

He gave a modest shrug, "sort of comes with the territory."

"Amelia," the woman said, introducing herself at last.

Dean reached out from under the hood to give her hand a brief shake, noting how she shied away from the grease he left on her palm, "Dean."

"You're a lifesaver, Dean," she breathed, again. This time he just chuckled. "I mean when I broke down I didn't think anyone in this town would be able to help," Dean rolled his eyes, though she didn't see it. If he hadn't known immediately she wasn't from around here then he would by now, "you know how many mechanics I called? Six! You were number seven! Seven! I mean, a car's a car right?!"

Dean winced, _smile and nod Winchester. Smile and nod_. "So, you just passing through, or staying a while?" he asked, changing the subject before she could offend what few sensibilities Dean had, something he hadn't realised was possible until just this very moment.

"Oh, we'll be around for a few weeks, maybe a month. My husband's here on work, he'll be taking over his mother's company soon," she said with such pride Dean couldn't help but smile for her, "it's not so bad," she sighed, "I mean we've been put up in a pretty nice suite but it's not home."

Keeping his eyes on the engine, Dean nibbled his lips, "sounds rough," he muttered, hoping he didn't sound too sarcastic. He pulled the hood down and gave her, what he hoped was a winning smile, "well the good news is I can fix her, the bad news is I can't do it right now, it'll take a couple of days."

Amelia's face fell, "oh," she sighed, "so...can I get a courtesy car?"

Dean tried very hard not to laugh, "sorry, I'm just one guy with a garage, not really my area, but," he added, seeing that she was about to start talking again and he didn't really have the energy, "I can run you home no problem and if you wanna give me your number I'll call you when she's ready for you."

"Oh you lifesaver," she said, happily. Dean wanted to throttle her. "Thank you so much."

"Sure," he said, afraid that she was about to throw herself into his arms in enthusiastic thanks, "I just gotta go close up a few things and then we'll head out, you wait here," and he backed into his little office if it could be called that.

He sighed, it wasn't her fault, she was nice if a bit excitable. But, he'd give her a ride home and would hopefully not have to deal with her until the car was fixed. Oh God, he hoped she wasn't one of those people who wanted hourly updates. Given that she didn't seem to appreciate the rarity of the car she drove, she probably wasn't. She didn't bat an eyelid at Dean's Impala either, he wondered idly if it was her husband's car, there weren't that many people who _accidentally_ ended up driving a limited run Shelby Mustang without knowing what it was.

Amelia gave Dean the address of her hotel, probably the swankiest hotel the city had to offer, Dean thought, pulling out and letting her words wash over him. She talked about her husband's work, something something-big company, something something-mother in law wanted him to take over at last. They'd be staying for a while, but they'd had to leave their daughter behind with the nanny, something something-they'd make it up to her with a vacation during the summer. Maybe they'd go skiing in Europe, her husband liked that kind of thing.

A small smile was playing on Dean's lips, it was hard not to laugh at her, even though she wasn't saying anything particularly funny. They were just from different worlds and Dean couldn't imagine complaining about being installed in a five-star suite and having all his meals catered for. Though it must suck being separated from their daughter, he thought, as Amelia talked about all the things Claire was learning in her no doubt exclusive nursery.

"Do you have children?" she asked, suddenly directing the flow of conversation towards Dean.

"Me?" he asked, in surprise, "No, just this baby," he said, tapping the dashboard of the Impala fondly.

Amelia gave an amused chuckle, "married?"

Dean's mouth went dry, it always did. "No," he said, aware that he'd gone quiet. Underneath his shirt, the ring he wore around a chain seemed to burn against him treacherously and he absently scratched the skin there, as though he were physically affected by the question. "Not for a while," he added before he could stop himself, inwardly screaming for letting that little tidbit slip out.

_Nine years, ten months and thirteen days_.

He couldn't help it, he never could, it was one of the few ways he could cling to that tiny sliver of happiness he'd carved out, however brief.

"Oh no," the woman beside him said, sadly, "what happened?"

_I loved him too much._

"Oh you know, the usual," Dean muttered, not wanting to get into it, it was his own fault, he shouldn't have mentioned it.

"I've been married eight years," she said, happily, either unaware or unashamed of Dean's obvious reluctance to discuss it. And then she was off again, talking about her husband, how great a provider he was, how he had a habit of putting his work first but she didn't mind... Dean thought he sounded a bit like an asshole, to be honest, relieved when the sign for the hotel came into view.

"Oh thank you so much, Dean," Amelia said, as he pulled up outside the rather ostentatious entrance.

She was already out of the car when he realised she hadn't given him her number so he jumped out after her. "Hey, you wanna exchange details?"

"Oh of course!" she laughed, returning to the car and leaning against it as she scribbled her number down on Dean's card. "Oh there's my husband," she said, cheerily, but Dean hadn't noticed, he was fishing a second card out of his wallet. "Hey sweetheart, this is Dean, the car broke down but he's going to fix it and he gave me a ride back, isn't that sweet? Dean this is my husband-"

Dean looked up just as she said the name, "Castiel," and found himself staring into bright blue depths he hadn't seen for years.

_Nine years, ten months and thirteen days_.

He felt as though the breath had been knocked out of him, he couldn't breathe, blood rushed to his head and for a half a moment he actually feared fainting. In front of him, Castiel was standing just as still, his face frozen as Dean imagined his own was. Without thinking Dean pressed his card into Amelia's hand and with a mumbled _something_ , he jumped back in the car and drove off. Thank God he left the engine running or he would have certainly stalled the car. Amelia would probably think him rude, but he didn't look back, he just needed to put as much distance between him and those blue eyes as humanly possible. His heart was still pounding when he pulled off the road half an hour later. He wasn't home, in fact, he didn't know where he was. All he knew was that he needed to drive and calm down, but that didn't seem likely. He couldn't quite get his breathing under control, _no no no no no no, not him_. Not him. Not here.

It was all he could do to not just break down and weep, surprising himself at how visceral, how raw his reaction had been. He could call his brother. Sam would understand, but if Dean did that then he would most certainly break down. It was one thing to have always known he would never get over losing Castiel Novak, the love of his life, the only person he would ever love, but it was bearable just about when said love of his life wasn't in his face...with his wife...and a gorgeous, classic car that Dean happened to be fixing up. Which meant there was a high chance of him running into Castiel again; he would certainly be seeing Amelia again.

_Great_ , Dean moaned into the steering wheel, _just great_.

His ex-husband was here and it had confirmed to Dean what he had always known, that he'd never stopped loving him. 


	2. Chapter 2

Castiel had been parked outside the shop he now knew to be Dean Winchester's garage for about forty minutes now. He still hadn't plucked up the courage to go inside. The shutters were open and he could see his car clearly. The hood was up so Dean was working on it, yet still, he hadn't moved. He was still reeling from seeing the last person he ever expected to see again; Dean, his husband.

_Ex-husband._

_Ex-husband_ , he reminded himself sternly. Almost reflexively the ring finger on his right hand twitched and his eyes fell onto the silver band there, the silver band Dean had given him so long ago, almost a lifetime ago.

Dean had disappeared after the divorce. Well, no that wasn't true. Dean had disappeared just before the divorce. The whole affair was conducted through Castiel's mother's lawyers and Castiel hadn't seen Dean since that morning, that beautiful morning where they'd made love and promised to love each other forever. Dean hadn't come home that evening and the following day the papers were waiting for him. Castiel had never found out what had happened and resigned himself to never finding out why Dean had left him. Dean had so successfully disappeared after it, he never thought he'd see him again. But there he was, just across the road, under the hood of Castiel's own car. He just needed to go over there and talk to him. He wanted to confront him, wanted to scream at him and demand to know how he could do it, how he could just drop him so easily without so much as a conversation. He wanted to strangle him. He wanted to throw him down on the bonnet and kiss him until he couldn't think straight. But he would do none of these things. He was just going to talk to him, he was going to find out what he needed to know and get closure and he wasn't going to scare Dean off again in doing so. He was just going to talk.

Which he would do.

Eventually.

Any minute now.

* * *

 

" _Hello, Dean_."

Despite everything, despite the years of separation, the way they had parted, the fact that Castiel was quite easily the last person Dean ever wanted to see again, those words, that voice still sent a shiver down Dean's spine. He paused underneath the hood, moving with deliberate slowness, forcing himself to face Castiel. He'd known this might happen, hell he'd spent all night visualising it so that it might prepare him, he should have known nothing could have.

"Cas," he breathed and he knew he was lost.

How could he not be? The gorgeous teenager Dean had married had become an even more gorgeous adult, but he still had that youthful look, that 'I just got laid' bedhead even when he tried to style it, and those eyes. Dean could lose himself in those eyes, on more than one occasion he had done.

"So..." Castiel stuttered, "hi?" he said, awkwardly.

"I'm sorry about yesterday," Dean said, launching into a stumbled apology, "I didn't know Amelia was your wife and I didn't know it was your car, I wouldn't have taken the job if I had and then I saw you and..."

Another silence.

"I was surprised too, Dean," Castiel said, quietly and then with a little more hesitation he said, "hey...do you wanna get a coffee?"

_No. No, I don't. No, I don't think that's a good idea. I love you. You're married to someone else. You hate me for leaving you. We should run to the other ends of the planet and never see each other again._

"Coffee sounds great, Cas."

* * *

There was a coffee shop just across the road from Dean's garage. They could have gotten take away, but then they'd have had to make conversation in the privacy of Dean's workplace, at least in the coffee shop they had barriers around them. There were people here, people just going about their daily lives, unaffected by anything that Dean or Castiel said or did. It was almost grounding.

"So, you have your own garage now," Castiel said, eventually, after they'd nursed their coffee in silence for a good ten minutes, both of them stealing glances at each other, both of them afraid to look too long. Dean looked good. _Really_ good. He'd always been attractive, but working outdoors, with cars suited him. He'd buffed up and his skin was a gorgeous tan that seemed to bring out his freckles. Castiel had always loved his freckles.

_Don't count the freckles_.

Dean smiled, despite himself, "yeah. It's not much but it ticks over. I've got this side thing specialising in restoring classic cars," his eyes glazed over as he launched into a cheerful explanation of all the things he got to do under the hood. "It's pretty niche, but some of the cars I get to work on...I mean yours is a beauty," Castiel flushed, how inappropriate would it be to tell him he got it because it reminded him of Dean, "every year I get over to Mississippi-"

"For the car show?" Castiel interrupted, unable to hold the words back and Dean positively beamed at him, touched that he remembered.

"Yeah, that's right."

Castiel faltered in the glow of Dean's smile, trying to keep his own face as stoic as he could. It warmed his heart to see Dean happy, and, however, he didn't want to admit it, made him a little jealous.

"And you," Dean said, clearing his throat awkwardly, "Amelia said you were still working for Naomi," he voice cracked at the mention of Castiel's mother, Castiel couldn't help but notice, but he didn't say anything, "doing pretty well for yourself..."

_I never wanted any of this._

"And you've got Amelia and Claire was it, a kid? You uh," Dean swallowed, "you've...you've done really well."

_I never wanted them_.

Castiel nodded, his throat too dry to reply. Dean looked sad, not outwardly of course. He was still smiling, but he knew him too well. He'd known every part of him. He could see that Dean's smile was strained, he could see the sadness behind his eyes. And then Dean shook his head and downed his coffee and it was gone, hidden behind a mask of politeness. "I'm pleased for you, Cas," he said, "you...yeah you got it made."

Castiel followed suit and downed his own drink, though it was too hot to do so and it scalded his throat. It hurt less than Dean's words though, how could he think he'd want this? He thought he'd made his opinions on big business clear, but clearly, Dean seemed to think it suited him. There was a dull pain in Castiel's gut, maybe it was for the best they'd broken up, Dean clearly didn't know him at all.

Maybe that was why Castiel asked what he did, even though it was a monumentally bad idea. But, he had to know. Had he romanticised Dean in his head? Was that all this was? Because the Dean sitting opposite him was acting as though Castiel had his life on a plate and Castiel's Dean would have known that could never be true. Or maybe it was just because he'd missed him, so much, and even having him here, breaking his heart all over again, was better than letting him out of his sight.

Whatever the reason, Dean had made a gesture and said he should be getting back to work and Castiel, idiot that he was, said, "hey uh...Amelia, she has a thing on tonight so...I was wondering if you wanted to get dinner? Catch up properly, you know?"

And Dean had looked momentarily horrified, as though he couldn't think of anything worse, right up until the point where he'd said, so quietly Castiel had surely misheard, "sure Cas, I get off at 6."


	3. Chapter 3

It was a wonder the car, _Castiel's car_ , wasn't in a worse case than when it had been brought in. Dean hadn't exactly been treating her with care. He'd been heavy handed with his tools, practically stomping about the place, cursing every tiny thing under his breath - mostly himself.

Dinner. With Cas. _Great idea Winchester._ Wonderful. Fabulous. His best idea yet.

Cas had gotten on with his life. That much was obvious. Dean remembered the idealistic guy who had scorned his family's wealth, wanting nothing more than to open an apiary somewhere that people could visit and wander around the flower gardens. But that had been then, people changed, Castiel obviously had, settling into a life that was the polar opposite of everything he would have had with Dean. It had hurt, like a punch to the gut, well, like several kicks to the gut, but there was also a sad comfort to be taken here. Cas was happy. Dean had been right to leave when he did, Cas had come out on top. Hell, he had a kid now. Would he had even considered children with Dean? And then Cas had asked him to dinner and Dean had thought God, no, that's the worst idea I've ever heard while his lips had said yes.

He threw the box wrench in his hand onto the ground for no reason other to expend the energy and hear the satisfying clang of metal on the ground. What was he doing? As though to mock him the first beats of 'Smoke on the Water' rang out across the garage and he rolled his eyes. Because _of course_ , this day could get worse.

"What do you want, Sam?" he barked down the phone, regretting both his anger and the fact that he'd revealed his position so early on in the conversation. "Sorry," he said, softer, all but hearing his brother stutter over a response, "Hey, Sam."

" _Dude_. What's wrong?"

"Nothing, what d'you want?"

"Well I was just gonna ask if you fancied company this weekend but...I'm thinking maybe you've got something on. What's up?"

Dean sighed, rubbing his temples with grease tainted fingers, "I'm fine Sammy, it's nothing."

"Uh huh," Sam replied in his ' _I've got all day to get this out of you, Dean_ ' voice, "what's really up?"

Dean let out a ragged groan, this was happening. "I'm going out for dinner tonight."

Sam scoffed, "and you're pissed because...?"

"Because it's with Cas."

There was a long silence, long enough that Dean had to double check that the call hadn't disconnected. In a way that would have been preferable, when Sam spoke all he said was, "Dean," but Dean had never heard his brother sound so worried in all his life. " _Oh Dean_ ," he said and Dean could hear him struggling to think of anything to say.

"It's ok, Sam," Dean replied, in a tone that suggested it was anything but ok, "he's married now. He's even got a kid. He's in town on business, taking over his mom's business, you remember his mom?" he said, unable and unwilling to hide the tinge of bitterness that crept into his voice. "But he's doing great, so...y'know I was right-" his voice broke and he stopped, breathing deep to compose himself.

"Does he know?" Sam asked, eventually.

"No."

"Are you going to tell him?"

"Probably not."

Sam sighed, but it wasn't one of impatience. "Are you ok?"

"No."

" _Dean_ -"

"Look, Sam, it's one dinner. One dinner where I get to hear about my exes perfect life with his perfect job and his perfect family. It's just a couple of hours seeing how much better off without me he is and how he never needed me in the first place and then we both get some closure and I never have to think about him again."

Another silence.

"You don't really believe any of that do you?"

"Not a word, Sam. Anyway, I gotta go...and yeah, I think I'll take you up on that weekend thing."

"Ok. Want me to call you later?"

"Maybe tomorrow."

"Alright, Dean!" he called, knowing that Dean was a breath away from hanging up, "just...just be careful."

"Bye Sam."

He hung up before his brother could point out the obvious, that he didn't need to go out with Cas, that he could cancel it all and save himself the heartbreak. He knew it was going to hurt. He knew even as he showered after a day under the hood, and threw on a change of clothes he kept in his office. He knew when he saw Cas waiting just outside but as he walked towards him and Cas smiled at him with that smile he had missed, _oh so much_ , he couldn't help but smile back.

They should have gone to a fancy restaurant. They should have gone somewhere classy but impersonal, where Dean was ill at ease and Castiel could have frowned at the wine list. Not a diner. Why did they go to a diner? Why did they have burgers and beer? How could they settle so easily into chatting amicably as though the years and pain that had separated them had never been? Dean didn't want to be comfortable with Cas, he didn't want to laugh with him. He wanted to hate the way he asked after Sam and the way his eyes lit up with such sincere joy when Dean told him that he had, as expected, gotten through Stanford on a full ride and was living the lawyer dream. He wanted to walk away and chalk all this up to a bad idea because that's exactly what it was. But Cas dribbled ketchup down his chin and called for more beer through a mouthful of beef and Dean was lost, wanting to take what he could get, wanting to savour every ill-advised moment in his company. It was stupid, it was ridiculous, it was the bad idea to top all the bad ideas Dean had ever had in his life and he would regret it in the morning, but right now, he forced down the voice telling him to get out, a voice which sounded a lot like Sam right now, and easily lost himself in blue depths he had never wanted to lose.

"Can I get you boys anything else?" a waitress asked and Dean was forced to look up and see that they were the last ones in the place and the door sign had been flipped to 'closed.'

He blushed and cleared his throat, but Cas just beamed at her and said, "got any pie?"

She rolled her eyes but clearly couldn't say no to that smile. Dean didn't blame her, and she stepped away to fetch them some pie. Cas grinned at Dean, lifting his beer to down the dregs and maybe it was the way that the light caught his hand, or maybe it was just that Dean had been so caught up in Cas being here, with him, that he hadn't noticed til now, but he saw the gleam of silver on his right hand and before he could stop himself he'd said, "you still wear the ring?"

Cas had frozen, his eyes moving from Dean to his hand where sure enough, on his right hand was the wedding band Dean had given him with a kiss seemingly a lifetime ago. Slowly, Cas lowered the bottle to the table, his eyes glued to the ring, his expression unreadable as he said softly, "yeah...I...I guess I do." His eyes met Dean's and Dean would have given anything not to have seen the hurt there. Hurt that _he_  had put there. He steeled himself, _it was for the best, it was for the best_ , beating in his pulse as though it could make it better. "Do you...still have yours?"

"No," Dean said, quickly, trying to stop his fingers from instinctively reaching to his chest where he knew the ring hung on a chain, close to his heart, "no I got rid of it a long time ago," he tried to laugh it off, but there was no mirth in his voice. Neither of them spoke, the waitress returned with pie, but neither of them moved.

"Why did you leave me, Dean?"

There it was. Spoken so softly it might not have been said at all. Castiel's eyes hadn't left his ring, but Dean knew him, even after all this time he knew that he was keeping his gaze there deliberately, as though he would break if he looked at Dean. Dean tried to breathe steadily, forcing the well-rehearsed words to surface from the depths of his mind. "It was for the best," he sounded like a robot, but Cas looked so broken he didn't seem to notice, "I mean we were young, impulsive. We made a mistake and I know I didn't handle it well at the time, I should have handled it better-"

"You should have talked to me."

Dean's heart was breaking. He could feel it, a physical pain shooting through his heart at having to have this conversation. It was just ego, he told himself, Cas had Amelia, he had a kid, he had money and his mom's approval, he wasn't cut up about it. He couldn't be. Dean couldn't allow himself to entertain what it might mean if Cas was a fraction as broken as he seemed to be. "It was for the best," Dean said, again, trying to play it off, trying to inject some lightness into his voice, "I mean you got a great life, Cas. You didn't need me," he swallowed, hard, "you never needed me. It was a mistake."

Dean cleared his throat to cover the break in his voice, fishing for some bills out of his pocket and trying not to throw them onto the table in his haste to get out of there. "I'm gonna head off," he forced a smile, "see you 'round, Cas. You can give my pie to Amelia if you want," he patted Cas on the shoulder as he passed, he wasn't going to break into a run, he was going to stroll out of the diner calmly, quietly, he wasn't going to break. Not here.

The air seemed colder somehow, it made Dean's eyes sting. And the wind was up, which explained why his eyes were wet. He'd drank too much beer hence the burning in his throat. As he passed the diner, he glanced back, Cas hadn't moved. He was still sitting at the table, the two pieces of pie untouched between them, his gaze still on the ring on his finger. Dean made a sound that he knew to be somewhere between a choke and a sob, and determined that he wouldn't shed another tear over Castiel Novak, he broke into a run. At least that way he could blame being unfit on the tightness in his chest and his inability to breathe. 


	4. Chapter 4

In the two days that followed Castiel had several meetings with a number of important people. He had a formal luncheon with his mother, a business lunch with his mother and a couple of higher-ups and several meals with Amelia. The nanny had called them to update them on Claire and Claire herself had spoken to them over the phone, mostly disinterested that her mother had called her from her play.

Castiel hadn't been present for any of them. His body had, he had gone through the motions on auto-pilot and he knew that if he didn't have a P.A. to direct him and tell him where he was expected to be, who he was expected to meet, he wouldn't have known where he was. He'd shut down, he knew he had, he hadn't said a single word to any of them since Dean had left him at the diner and it was a sign of just how much he didn't want his life that nobody around him had noticed and Castiel wasn't surprised. For once he was glad of the loneliness, he wouldn't have known what to say if Amelia had asked him what was wrong. As long as he shook hands with the right people, they didn't need much more from him and they put his taciturnity down to long hours and natural stoicism.

He hadn't eaten since the burger at the diner. The pie he had brought home and left on the counter, maybe Amelia had eaten it, maybe it was still there, he had no inclination to check. Castiel was subsisting off a liquid diet of caffeine, the blacker the better. The only interaction he had was to order, "double espresso," at various coffee shops, too numb to even give his name or say please or thank you. He didn't pay much attention to where he was, what he was doing or even where he was going which is how he ended up taking his double espresso, walking straight into someone and spilling it all over himself and the customer. He couldn't even bring himself to say sorry, just staring at the too warm patch on his jacket, he'd have to change, but he didn't care to.

"Cas?" a voice asked, but he didn't recognise it. Just like he didn't recognise the man standing beside him, well, standing over him would be more appropriate. Castiel looked up, having to take a small step back so he could see the man's face clearly. Not that was easy when he had strands of floppy hair obscuring his eyes. "You ok, man? No offense, you look rough."

The tone was soft, caring and Castiel knew from it who the stranger was, he might even have smiled but he wasn't entirely sure he would ever smile again. "Sam," he said, evenly.

"Hey, Cas," Dean's brother breathed.

"I thought you were in California."

_Dean said you were in California._

"Hey, let me get you another one," Sam offered, kindly, and Castiel felt more than saw him gesture to the guy behind the counter. With a new cup in his hand, Sam steered Castiel to a table, and Castiel didn't fight it. The coffee burned as it went down, he felt his body protest another influx of caffeine over the necessities of nutrition, but it would have to get used to it.

"It's good to see you, Cas," Sam said, eventually and it occurred to Castiel that the last time they'd seen each other had been four days before the divorce papers arrived. _At the wedding._ Castiel shrugged, it might have been good to see Sam. He wouldn't know. "Hey, are you...are you ok?"

Castiel shook his head, why bother pretending, besides Sam had always known him well and had always had an intuition for this sort of thing. The fact that Castiel was sitting silently, covered in a coffee stain, having not showered, shaved, eaten or slept in two days was also a dead giveaway.

"Has something happened?" Sam asked, cautiously.

"Your brother left me," Cas said, his voice sounding shallow and far away, not his own. He could feel the confusion in Sam's gaze without even looking up to meet it. "He said it was all a mistake. He said I never needed him," Castiel surged forward, burying his face in his hands and laughed, but the sound was cold, raising the hairs on the back of his own neck even, "I was such an idiot. I don't know how I didn't see it before."

Sam's voice was careful, neutral, betraying nothing, "see what?"

"Dean was right," he said, feeling a weight lift off his chest as he spoke the words, "we should never have gotten married." He looked at Sam in silence, but the conversation continued in his head.

Dean had left him, Dean had divorced him just days into their marriage because he thought Castiel didn't need him. Castiel had thought they were happy and that was the worst crime, Castiel hadn't even known, hadn't seen that Dean didn't know how precious he was. All these years Castiel had wondered what it was he had done to drive Dean away, but no, it was the opposite, it was everything he _hadn't_ done. Everything he hadn't done to show just how much Dean was loved. And Castiel had had no clue, he'd thought everything was fine. Dean was right to have left when he did. He deserved someone who left him in no doubt as to how important he was.

Sam was staring now, his own coffee cooling in front of him. But Castiel felt better, much better. He was still hurting, but it was a distant hurt, in the way an old injury plays up. The rawness was gone and it struck him that he could never have had this conversation, as one-sided as it was, with anyone else, and it was a little messed up that of all the people around him it was his ex-husband's brother that had reached out to him and let him think.

Castiel looked at Sam, as though seeing him for the first time, his eyes focusing now, the pain and misery of the last two days balled into a tight corner of his heart where it could burn in shame and acceptance that this was what Castiel deserved for making Dean feel like he wasn't wanted. Wasn't needed.

"What brings you from California, Sam?" Castiel asked, changing the conversation so abruptly his outburst might as well have not happened.

"Uh...Dean," Sam said, stuttering a little, "he uh...he's not doing so good."

Castiel raised an eyebrow, "oh? Is he unwell?"

"Uh, no, no he's...well he's...about as cut up as you are, actually." Sam stumbled over his words, his eyes never leaving Castiel's.

"I can understand that," Castiel sighed, "no doubt seeing me has brought up a number of old wounds he thought were closed. I for one am glad of the closure I suppose, though I wish it hadn't taken almost ten years for him to actually tell me why he left."

"He told you? Dean told you why he..." Sam swallowed, as though the word divorce were too much, "did what he did."

Castiel nodded, "yes, and I suppose I understand his reasons for keeping it from me, I probably wouldn't have taken it well at the time."

Sam sighed, "Cas, listen, man, Dean, just...he didn't want to come between you and Naomi y'know and-"

But Castiel had snapped his head up so suddenly it was a miracle he didn't give himself whiplash, "my mother?"

"Yeah...I mean Dean was devastated, he still is, but if you think he was right, then I guess...I guess he'll just have to get over it again..." Sam trailed off, and this time there was a note of hostility to his voice, "though...I gotta say, I never thought you'd take your mother's side on this," he scoffed, "I guess I didn't know you as well as I thought."

Sam's coffee was cold and the atmosphere between them had changed, this was no longer a casual conversation, he was no longer concerned for the man who had bumped into him and looked like hell. Castiel could feel his annoyance but when he made to stand, Castiel reached out and touched his arm. "What has my mother to do with this?"

"What you think Dean came up with the divorce idea on his own?" Sam scoffed, "he loved you man if she hadn't convinced him-" Castiel's face had fallen and Sam trailed off in the face of his obvious agony. Sam swallowed, Castiel could see the motion almost choking him, "you said Dean told you...about why he left."

"Dean told me we were young, foolish and he felt like we'd regret it later. He didn't mention my mother."

Sam stared for a moment before he rose so quickly that his coffee threatened to spill, "so I gotta go-"

"Sam!" Castiel snapped, in a tone he hadn't used in a long, long time. The one that broke no argument, the one that brought the man to an immediate stop in front of him, "what did my mother do?" 


	5. Chapter 5

Dean let the hood of the car snap shut and with a sigh, he grabbed a cloth to wipe the worst of the grime from his hands. At least it was done. He would send Amelia a message because he certainly wasn't going to open communication with Cas. Amelia, _Cas' wife_ , could pick up the car any time. Then it would be gone and he wouldn't have to deal with them again. He'd like to say he wouldn't have to think about Cas again, but that wasn't going to happen. At least now that the car was done he didn't have any other jobs for the moment. He could shut the shop and get drunker than he'd ever been. Sam could join him, he'd been on the first flight out, despite Dean's protests because, ' _yeah Dean, you sound that bad, I'm on my way_.' And he probably _had_ sounded that bad, worse than bad. He couldn't get that last image of Castiel out of his mind. How broken he looked. Why had he looked like that? He had everything Naomi said he would ever want, she'd been right hadn't she? She'd said he'd forget Dean soon enough, that he'd take his rightful place in the company, marry a nice woman, have a nice kid and when the time came to allow her to retire gracefully, knowing that everything would carry on in good hands. It had played out exactly as she'd said.

He remembered that day better than any before or since. He could still see her in that crisp, pressed suit. If he closed his eyes he could smell the notes of her perfume, he could still hear her voice, sharp enough to cut through the air and leave him bleeding.

"I admire your loyalty. I only wish he felt the same way. I know you don't want to believe it, Dean but we want the same thing. We both want Castiel to be happy, but he only _thinks_ that that's with you, but we know it's with his family. You've heard him talk about his brothers, about Gabriel and Lucifer, you know what it did to us for them to walk away when they did and if he stays with you, that's what he'll do. He'll walk away because this isn't your life and you don't want it to be. You're both young and you've made a mistake, a reckless, impulsive mistake but I can sort it. I've got the papers right here, you won't even have to see him again, you can just walk away and save you both the heartache of him waking up and hating you. Because he will Dean. He's my son, I know him. one day he'll wake up, look at you and see everything you cost him and he'll hate you. I don't want either of you to feel that kind of pain. You don't want to be selfish, do you, Dean? You want Castiel to be happy? Then let him go. Let him stay with his family. It'll work out for the best, you'll see."

In his dreams, especially in those first few days after he had signed those papers, those damned papers, he imagined Castiel finding him, breaking down the door and telling him he was wrong, that Dean was everything he would ever need. There was no such luck. He didn't know what Naomi had told her son, but it had obviously worked, the divorce was finalised with indecent haste and Castiel had gone on to live the life Naomi dreamed for him, that he apparently dreamed for himself. A life without Dean.

It was ok. He'd gotten over it before, he could get over it again. A thought that sounded better in his head than when he turned around to find Cas standing right before him, leaning slightly against his car.

"Hello, Dean."

"Hey, Cas," Dean sighed, "good timing," he said, forcing a smile into his voice, "I just finished," he waved his hand over Cas' car, "you can take her home."

Cas was regarding him, quietly, as though he was studying him, it was a little disconcerting. "You uh...you wanna settle up now?" Dean asked, deciding that professionalism was probably the only thing that would get him through this. Cas still didn't say anything, so Dean led him into the office, rifling through the paperwork he'd prepared earlier.

"Here's an invoice," Dean muttered, struggling to maintain his composure while Cas just stared. Why wasn't he saying anything? "I take cash or credit." Cas reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet, rifling through the bills there and laying a handful on Dean's desk. He still didn't say anything. His eyes never left Dean. Uncertainly, Dean flicked through the bills and with an awkward shrug, slipped them into his back pocket. "So..."

Still, Cas said nothing.

Dean handed him the keys and would have reached to shake his hand, as he tended to sign off all his deals, but he was still smeared with grease and oil, so he thought better of it. "I'll see you around, I guess."

"Dammit, Dean!" Cas snarled, the suddenness of his shout taking both of them by surprise, Dean almost fell back against the desk. "You'd just let me drive out of here wouldn't you?!" And then Cas was beside him, all notions of personal space gone, he was so close Dean could feel his breath coming in sharp, ragged bursts against his throat, "how could you do it, Dean? How could you leave me like that? How could you let me leave now?"

Dean swallowed, his throat dry, as though he had never tasted a drop of moisture in his life, "you've got everything you need Cas," he croaked, "you don't-"

"Say 'need me' and I will end you, Dean Winchester," Cas shouted, even though he was right by Dean's ear, "you think I want this? You think I wanted any of this? I never wanted this life, all I wanted was you! All I ever wanted was you. You are the only thing I have ever cared about, I can't believe you ever thought I didn't want you. How could you listen to my mother of all people, over what we had?!"

Dean's eyes snapped to Castiel's, "well she was right, wasn't she? She told me you'd forget about me and didn't you just, the ink was hardly dry when you and Amelia got together, and then there's Claire, I mean I didn't even know you wanted kids."

Castiel's jaw was somewhere on the floor, "Dean, Amelia and I- we..." he stepped back, drawing a deep breath and then slowly, as though speaking to a small child he said, " _I'm gay_ remember? Remember how I'm gay? Claire isn't mine, Amelia was in the right place at the right time for my mother. She suggested that we get together. Claire was just a baby then, easy enough pass off as mine, I don't have all that much to do with her," and despite their situation, Dean could hear the pang of guilt in his voice, "but I mean, she's got nannies and Amelia and she sees her real dad," he shook his head, as though shaking the thoughts away, "but Amelia and I, we never-"

"Then why did you marry her?" Dean challenged, folding his arms.

Cas glared at him, incredulous, "because my mother suggested it. Because the love of my life had disappeared leaving nothing but divorce paper. Because I had nothing left so when my mother said, this is for the best I believed her! Because the one person I counted on had vanished and my mother was the only one there for me."

"But...your mother told me-" Dean started and he was kind of grateful when Cas cut him off because he really wasn't sure where he was going with the whole thing, he was reeling from Cas' revelation.

"I know," Cas hissed, "I know what my mother told you. I bumped into Sam who couldn't believe that you hadn't told me. That _she_ had never told me. All this time I thought-" but he couldn't continue. He almost slumped, defeated and the change was so abrupt that Dean reached out to steady him, as though afraid he'd fall over.

Cas looked down at Dean's hand, where it held his arm and then looked up and Dean could see all the pain of the last ten years in his eyes. He'd done this. "Cas," he breathed, "Cas, I'm so sorry," he said, knowing that he would never be sorry enough. This was a thousand times worse than anything he'd done before, worse even than the divorce in the first place. "She told me you'd hate me." Dean's voice sounded very small, even to himself, "I couldn't- I couldn't bear for you to wake up one day and hate me."

"Dean," Cas sighed, "Dean I could never hate you. I loved you, I still love you, I just," his voice cracked, but he didn't break ,"I wish-" but what he wished for he never said, Dean, closed the gap between them and did what he'd been dying to do since he saw Cas in the hotel foyer, he kissed him.

Dean's hands were on Cas' face, his fingers pressed against his cheeks as his lips moved gently, so gently, over Cas' it felt as though he feared breaking him. In a way he did. This was everything and it wasn't enough. Cas in his arms, responding to his kiss, sighing softly against him, Dean was afraid that if he made any sudden movements Cas would disappear from beside him. He'd realise how badly Dean had messed up and walk away with far greater justification than Dean had ever had.

As though sensing Dean's thoughts, Cas broke the kiss, leaning his forehead against Dean's, trailing his hands around Dean's neck to keep him there. "Never leave me again, Dean. Please."

"Never Cas, God I'm so sorry." And then they were locked together at the lips, and it was like coming home. The years did not fall away from them, the pain remained, but as they kissed Dean felt like they could push it away, hold it at bay at least. Here, kissing Cas, this was where he was supposed to be. He wasn't sure which of them started it, but Dean realised that his shirt was on the floor, discarded beside Cas' button down. Cas fingers were playing with the chain around Dean's neck, his fingers stroking the ring that lay there and his eyes met Dean's but he didn't say anything. He didn't need to. Dean hoisted Cas up by the hips, turning him to sit on the edge of the desk as his lips moved to his ear, his neck, his shoulder, recommitting every inch of his skin to memory.

Cas was trying to return the favour, his teeth nipping at Dean's earlobe, but Dean wouldn't be drawn, even as sparks of heat shot to his groin. He was going to show Cas how sorry he was, he could never make up for the years they had lost, but he was going to try. It wasn't where he wanted it to happen, Cas deserved a king size bed with finest Egyptian cotton and pillows filled with goose feathers. Not Dean's rickety desk, while Dean himself desperately needed a shower, leaving grease stains wherever his fingers pressed against Cas' perfect body, but Cas didn't mind. Dean could tell from the soft moans escaping him as he relented and let Dean carry on, let him lay him back against the desk and however uncomfortable it might have been he didn't seem to let it bother him, allowing his fingers to trail into Dean's hair.

Dean's fingers worked the clasp of Cas' belt loose and unzipped his pants, trailing his tongue after his fingers, kissing Cas' obvious bulge through cotton boxers. "I love you," he breathed against Cas' hip bones, feeling Cas' moan as he did so, "I never stopped loving you."

Cas might have responded, it sounded like he intended to, but at that moment Dean slipped his fingers under the waistband of Cas' underwear and tugged it down, allowing him unfettered access to the length batting against his lips. Anything Cas might have said was lost as Dean took him in his mouth, trying not to come right there himself, as he lost himself in the familiar scent and taste of the only person he'd ever loved.

" _I love you_ ," Cas was breathing, over and over again, " _I love you, I love you_ -"

Dean took his time, even though it was hard to maintain any kind of control with Cas falling apart beneath him. But he was slow, taking Cas in long, slow licks learning all over again what he liked, how he moaned when he did that - _yes that -_ with his tongue. And soon, too soon, Cas was patting his shoulder, "Dean, Dean, I'm gonna-" but still, Dean didn't relent, wanting to taste all of him, letting his tongue tease the slit at his lips before swallowing him down just as Cas cried out something that might have been Dean's name, might have been a prayer, might have been both. Dean swallowed every drop as though it were precious, determined to take it all, and was rewarded with a look from Cas' lust blown eyes when he looked up at him.

Cas pulled him up by the shoulders and wrapped his arms around Dean's shoulders, holding him tight, pressing them together as though he couldn't bear to be parted again not even for a moment. Dean let him, not minding the ache of his own arousal, burying his face in the crook of Cas' neck before he realised that Cas was trembling in his arms and not all of that was from post-orgasmic bliss. Where Cas' face met Dean's shoulder was becoming wet and Dean noticed, with embarrassed acceptance, that his own tears were falling quite freely with Castiel's. 


	6. Chapter 6

Dean did not require proof that Castiel's marriage was not the happy ending Dean had imagined it to be, but if he had, the fact that Castiel stayed out with him all night and hadn't received a single message or call asking where he was would have done it. They had held each other for what felt like an age, just locked in each other's arms in Dean's office, though they parted long enough to pull their clothes back on before they returned to their embrace. Castiel never wanted to let Dean out of his arms again, which wasn't entirely practical. Eventually, they had allowed themselves enough space to sit on opposite ends of Dean's desk, holding hands and finally, after too many years of silence, they talked.

At some point Sam returned, calling for Dean. He'd paused in the doorway when he saw them, an unfathomable expression on his face. He saw Dean and at that moment looked fit to wipe Castiel from the face of the earth until Dean said it was ok and then he softened. "I'll go check into a motel," he said, quietly, "call me in the morning?" he said to Dean, firmly, "or if you need me sooner," his eyes wandered to Castiel again, but this time there was no hostility, only caution. He had ducked back out but his interruption had served to remind them that it was getting late and they'd spent too many hours sitting awkwardly on a desk, even if it had all been worth it.

"Come home with me?" Dean had asked and Castiel had melted, but it hadn't been a question, not really. It wasn't going to be easy, they knew that. They harboured no illusions that they would just go back to the way things were, to their carefree, just-about-legal wedding. Dean had messed up, he knew it, but Castiel was trying to be understanding about it. His mother had a penchant for manipulation and hadn't he himself married Amelia and done as he was told all these years because of his mother? He had given up all his dreams when Dean had left him but he had never pursued them since because of Naomi. But it would take time, a long time for them to get back to a sense of normality, they had lost almost ten years together, ten years that Dean felt was all his fault and Castiel couldn't entirely disagree. Then there was Amelia and Castiel's mother, though Dean had managed to talk Castiel down from speeding to her office to tear her a new one. She had taken ten years from him, ten years that he could have been making the life he wanted with Dean, and if it was the last thing he ever told her, and it would be, it would be how wrong she had been. But all that was for tomorrow. Right now, all Castiel wanted was to fall into Dean's arms and show him how much he was loved.

They were going to go away together, Dean had said, on the way back to his apartment. The two of them were going to run away together, start afresh, figure themselves out and Castiel just smiled, his fingers interlinked with Dean's, "sure, Dean." At first he thought that Dean was getting ahead of himself, that there was no way he'd pack up his life here just because Castiel had breezed back into it, but then they had arrived at Dean's apartment and Castiel saw that even though Dean had lived there for years, it still seemed impersonal, as though he had been waiting for a reason to leave.

They talked more, Castiel wondered if his voice would be hoarse in the morning, he couldn't remember having talked so much in his life. Dean talked about Naomi, everything she had said and Castiel had blazed with anger that she had made Dean feel the way she had. Then there had been the guilt and the shame that crept in- if he'd loved Dean more none of this would have happened. But Dean had sensed his remorse and immediately moved to wrap an arm around him, holding him close, whispering apologies, assuring him that Castiel had always loved him enough, this was Dean's mistake and Naomi's crime.

In return, Castiel told him how Naomi had delivered the papers with, surprisingly little mention of her intrigues. Instead, she'd told him that Dean had just bolted, having realised the solemnity of marriage and not wanting to get tied down so young. From there came the story of meeting Amelia and Claire, how Amelia was happy to marry Castiel for appearance's sake and how it hadn't been all bad, they'd been friends if nothing else. But it was when he talked of Claire, telling Dean how little involvement he'd had, how little he'd been _allowed_ to have and how he'd been _encouraged_ into his mother's work that had Dean pulling him closer, showering his throat with kisses and more apologies.

"I'm so sorry, Cas, I never thought-" he muttered against Castiel's skin, and Castiel knew what he meant. He hadn't thought that it would be Castiel who would suffer the most for Naomi's intervention. Castiel could see it in Dean's eyes, the barely disguised fury that she could hurt her son like this and that he had let her. Stroking his face, Castiel wanted to tell him it was ok, that they were together again, that she hadn't succeeded and that they would be fine, but the words wouldn't come. It was too soon and it wasn't fine.

"I don't understand why she'd do this," Dean growled, having resorted to pacing to try and expend some of his anger.

Castiel just shrugged, he understood. "She always wanted me to take over from her. She knew I didn't want her life and she knew with you I'd turn my back on it. I was always stronger with you, Dean," he said, softly, "always. You always gave me courage I never thought I'd find in myself, without you-" But then he broke off, he could hear his voice breaking and he'd cried quite enough for one night. Dean had stopped, his fingers drawn into such a tight fist Castiel wondered that they wouldn't draw blood.

Castiel could see the effort it took for Dean to bring himself under control. He could see the deliberate rise and fall of his chest as Dean determined that he wasn't going to go and find Naomi, he wasn't going to put his fist through her smug face, he was going to be here now, with Castiel.

It was as though they had reached a natural lull. As though they had said everything they needed to say and for the next few moments, minutes, hours maybe, they just looked at each other, unashamedly taking in everything they had missed. Castiel reached across the sofa cushion between them to take Dean’s hand, and they sat, remembering how their hands had slotted together. An adorable flush crept into Dean’s cheeks as he remembered what else had slotted together and for a moment he couldn’t meet Castiel’s eye. Even as he dropped his gaze to a patch on the carpet he could feel Castiel smiling at him and tentatively he raised his eyes and smiled back.

“Stay with me?” Dean asked, quietly.

Castiel stroked his thumb over Dean’s, “you left me, remember? I should be asking you.” Dean flushed but took the hit. Castiel must have regretted the poor attempt at a joke, he took Dean’s hand in both of his, holding it, tightly, lowering his face so Dean could catch his gaze. “I’ll stay, Dean. Will you?”

Dean used the grip to pull Castiel across the sofa towards him, settling him easily onto his chest, “I’m never going to let you out of my sight,” with a sigh, he added, “I’m so sorry.”

“I’m sorry too,” Castiel said, sadly, and that was the last they spoke of it, settling quietly against each other and revelling in their closeness. Time seemed to pause around them and it didn’t surprise either of them when their lips found each other. In their younger years, they’d be hard pushed to keep their hands off each other, they had probably never moved so slowly in their lives.

They kissed as though they had all the time in the world and as far as they were concerned, they did. When they could kiss like this, they had no need to make promises to each other, everything was right here where their lips joined. Castiel’s neck was aching from the awkward angle, so without breaking contact he shifted, practically straddling Dean’s lap and one of them, perhaps both of them, moaned at the additional contact. But still, they kissed, gently and tentatively rediscovering each other and even when Dean allowed his lips to part and Castiel taste him they wouldn’t give themselves over to anything beyond this slow rediscovery.

Castiel’s hands slipped under Dean’s shirt, and he gasped a little, appreciating the hard expanse of muscle his fingers traced. In the back of his mind, he allowed himself to be thankful that he jogged as often as he did so that Dean could be equally impressed by his physique. Not that it mattered, but it was an added bonus he thought, as his fingers followed the clear definition of Dean’s abdomen.

Their shirts fell to the floor and they pressed against each other, not desperately, just to enjoy the warmth of the other, to feel skin on skin. Dean’s lips were at Castiel’s throat, nipping at his pulse point and Castiel ground his hips down, the first frisson of heat sparking between them.

“Cas,” Dean breathed, bucking his hips upwards, seeking the tiniest amount of friction, his pants far too constrained suddenly. “Missed you,” he sighed, brokenly, as Castiel’s fingers moved to Dean’s waistband to peel away the fabric there.

“I missed you too,” Castiel whispered between kisses, slipping easily onto the floor so he could remove Dean’s pants without having to break the contact between them. With pants, boxers, and socks joining their shirts on the floor, Castiel kissed his way back up Dean’s thighs, determined to return to his place in his lover’s lap.

His _husband’s_ lap.

He deliberately avoided kissing the space between Dean’s legs, pulling himself up to sit there instead, his lips trailing across every inch of skin he could possibly reach. By the end of tonight, he was determined that the taste of Dean would be seared onto his tongue’s memory forever. By the time he returned to Dean’s face, he saw that Dean was leaning back into the couch, staring at Castiel as though he were something insubstantial. As though he were about to disappear, as though all this was too good to be true. Castiel couldn’t blame him, he was having similar thoughts himself.

“I love you,” Castiel affirmed, rocking his hips against Dean’s, grinding their lengths together so Dean dropped his head back and uttered a groan so delicious, Castiel had to lean forward to capture it. At the first touch of Dean’s hands reaching between them, Castiel buried his face in the nook of Dean’s shoulder, gently canting his hips forward into Dean’s lazy grip. With one arm braced across the back of the sofa, Castiel lowered his own hand, running his fingers lightly over Dean’s cock, reminding himself of it, in intimate detail. They took their time, stroking each other leisurely, neither hurrying to chase the other’s pleasure, just enjoying the slow pace, recalling what the other liked with unashamed ease. The years fell away again as their rhythm increased, but it was too much for Dean when Castiel leaned in and rasped against his ear, “I want to see you,” and with a muffled curse, Dean lost control, coating Castiel’s hand and painting part of his navel. The sight was enough to bring Castiel to the edge and with a bitten off cry he came too, the two of them still gently rocking the other through their orgasms.

They desperately needed to get up, to move. Castiel’s thighs were practically screaming at him to get off Dean’s lap and they really needed to clean up the result of their exertions, but neither of them moved. They were still joined at the lips, promising each other everything they had already said with words, refusing to be part, not for anything. 


	7. Chapter 7

Dean woke up in no great hurry. He’d slept far longer than usual, far later than he had any right to and for a brief moment he was struck with confusion at the obvious daylight streaming through the curtains. Then he had stretched somewhat; his body felt boneless, sated, in a way that he couldn’t remember feeling in too long a time and suddenly he didn’t care for the late hour anymore. Instead, his arm went, almost instinctively to the other side of the bed where he knew Cas would be lying beside him. It didn’t matter how many years had passed, he knew Cas still hated mornings. Some things would never have changed.

Cas gave a small, sleepy groan as Dean pulled him onto his chest, but he settled quickly enough and Dean was content to lie there, his hand stroking through Cas’ hair, staring at the ceiling, thinking. They had made love several times in the night, sometimes slowly, sometimes desperately, it was no surprise they had slept as late as they had. And now what? Cas’ hair was so soft against his fingertips, his breath warm against Dean’s chest, he felt complete. He might say that Cas was the part of himself he never knew was missing, but that would be a lie, he’d known for almost ten years that Cas was the missing part of his being. But now that they had each other, would Cas really be willing to give up on everything he had in life for Dean? For the sake of a guy who had left him without so much as a conversation? Whenever he’d imagined Cas in the past, he’d always pictured himself as the victim, the one who had been bullied into giving up everything he loved for Cas’ sake. But now he knew that he’d left Cas to the mercy of a manipulative mother who had used him as a means to an end, forcing Cas into a life he had never wanted. In the cold light of the day, how would he even look at Dean?

But then Cas stirred, as though he could sense the guilt and shame radiating off Dean in waves and with a mumbled, ‘morning,’ Cas leaned up and kissed his neck. “Missed you. Missed _this_.” He trailed his fingers across Dean’s chest, letting them rest on the band Dean kept on a chain around his neck and he traced the shape, idly. Cas pressed himself even closer, if such a thing were possible, and let out a sound of such utter contentment, it shattered Dean’s second-guessing. Dean kissed him back, even as he pulled away, despite Cas’ protests, “coffee,” he mumbled against Cas’ skin and reluctantly Cas let him go.

Even after everything that had happened the night before, even though he had woken with Cas in his arm, it was still a surprise to Dean when Cas emerged, having had the briefest of exchanges with the shower, looking soft and grateful in the kitchen as he accepted a coffee. Normally, he wouldn’t have been coherent before his second cup, but there must have been something about the way Dean was holding himself because, after a third sip in silence, Cas frowned.

“What?”

Dean looked at him uncertainly, “what now?” he asked, quietly, already fearing the answer.

Cas cocked his head to one side, in a motion that was so familiar, so very _Cas_ , Dean could have melted into the coffee cup. But then Cas must have realised what he meant, because slowly, deliberately, he put his coffee on the counter and stepped towards Dean. With his arms wrapped around Dean’s waist, Cas held him tightly, resting his head on his chest, “I stay,” he said, simply, and it was a testament to the self-confidence that Dean could only dream of that he hadn’t taken Dean’s comment as a dismissal. Cas allowed himself enough of a step back that he could look Dean squarely in the eye, a hand naturally rising to dance over his jawline. “Nothing has changed for me, Dean. I meant everything I said last night, I know you did too.” His hand moved from Dean’s jaw to the chain around his neck, “so today, I’m going to sort some things out and then I’m going to come back here and we’re going to talk. We are going to order the largest meat-lover's pizza either of us have ever seen and assuming we don’t get distracted,” his fingers dipped lower on Dean’s chest and Dean had to bite his lip to stop himself from leaning in and distracting Cas there and then, “we’re going to make things right.” With an almost wicked glint in his eye, he leaned up to Dean’s ear and whispered, “and then I’m going to take you apart until you’re begging for me to ride you.”

Dean choked on nothing but air, almost cursing as his cock sprang to attention beneath his robe. Cas stepped back, smiling smugly, “but first I’ve got some things to do.” Dean watched him down the coffee and step into the hallway, slipping on his shoes easily. Even the way he threw on his suit jacket and trench coat looked different from the way he had been since they had found each other again. He seemed more confident, so much more self-assured, as though Cas had been in a daze that he had only just woken up from. That _Dean_ had woken him up from, he realised with a bolt of self-satisfaction. This was Cas, _his_ Cas, leaving to take care of things and then, he was coming back.

Drawing him in for another kiss, Dean could have kept him there for the rest of the day. He wanted to, Cas tasted deliciously of mint and coffee, a combination which could only have worked in the heat of Cas’ mouth. But eventually, Cas pulled back and rested his forehead against Dean’s. “I’ll be back,” he said, he _promised,_ but it still took him another ten minutes to break apart and actually leave.

For a while, Dean wasn’t sure what to do. He looked around his place, it seemed so empty now that Cas wasn’t in it. What had he done before Cas? How could it have been only twenty-four hours ago that he had been putting the finishing touches to Cas’ car and wondering how he was going to survive letting him go, again? Then there was the lingering thrill of Cas’ words, of his lips at his neck, with the promises of everything he was going to do to him, assuming he didn’t see sense while he was out and realised he deserved better than Dean, better than Naomi and Amelia. Cas was perfection, how could he stoop to forgive Dean?

And there it was, the reason Cas had promised that he’d be back because he surely knew Dean would second guess himself the moment he left. Thank God Sam showed up before Dean could drop onto a kitchen stool and chase away his shame and guilt with whiskey on an empty stomach.

Sam knew. Sam knew the minute he stepped through the door and in a way Dean was as grateful as he was horrified because at least this way he didn’t have to explain anything. Sam had brought lunch and he didn’t draw attention to the fact that he’d brought extra for Cas, just in case, but Dean ate it anyway. Sam didn’t complain. Sam did the dishes, Sam helped tidy up in the lounge, saying nothing when he found a pair of Dean’s boxer shorts that had gotten lost under a coffee table. They talked about nothing, filling a silence, occupying their hands until Dean interrupted Sam’s observations about the weather, blurting out, “what if he doesn’t come back?”

Regarding him with patience, Sam was always so patient, Sam said, kindly, “did he say he was coming back?”

Dean nodded.

Sam’s hand found its way to Dean’s shoulder, “then he’s coming back.” When Dean went to protest, Sam cut him off, “Dean, he’s here now. Don’t get so caught up in what you should or shouldn’t have done that you don’t appreciate that ok. It’s gonna be tough, but I-” he flushed a little, “I haven’t ever seen you as happy as when you were with Cas, and after seeing him yesterday well...I think it’s probably fair to say the same of him. You guys can do this, but not if you’re gonna start second guessing yourself before you even get started.”

He wanted to shove his brother away and berate him for getting all mushy on him, but the words caught in his throat. Despite the sense of what Sam had said his heart was still beating somewhere beyond his chest, panicking that Cas wasn’t coming home. Instead, he managed a silent nod, and Sam didn’t push it, choosing to throw himself onto the sofa and clicking the television on. At least this way Dean could pretend to lose himself in Netflix.

As time dragged on Dean tried to hide just how anxious he was. His eyes kept darting to his watch, even though Cas hadn’t said when he’d be back. He wasn’t going to be back. He’d probably already made up with Amelia and his mother and written Dean off as a mistake and-

“Beer?” Sam asked, recognising instantly when Dean was starting to spiral, like the annoying little shit that he was. Dean nodded, his jaw set so tight he wouldn’t be surprised if he’d need a crowbar to talk again. But as Sam disappeared into the kitchen there was a knock at the door and it was a good thing Sam was closer because Dean froze, staring down the hallway even though he knew realistically it could only be one person.

Cas.

Cas sporting a duffle bag and as promised, the largest pizza Dean had ever seen grace a takeout box. Seeing him standing there, talking amicably to Sam as his brother let him in, Dean allowed himself to release the breath he had been holding since that morning and from the way, Cas caught his eye and smiled, softly, he knew it. Sam took the pizza and Dean couldn’t make out what they were talking about, his brain still turned to mush from the realisation that Cas had come back. Cas was here. He recognised enough to know that Sam’s tone was guarded though still friendly, but then he didn’t have to think about anything because Cas was standing in front of him, a hand on his shoulder to ground him.

“I told you I’d be back.”


	8. Epilogue

Castiel watched Dean stretch out on the recliner, his spine popping as he did so. He might have winced at the sound but he was too busy enjoying the view, and not of the gardens. Dean felt his gaze upon him and grinned up at him, accepting the soda Castiel offered and the kiss that came with it. They’d have to go pick Claire up in a minute, but that could wait. Right now, they were happy, sitting beside each other, Castiel’s hand slipping easily into Dean’s as they both looked out over the perfectly maintained garden, Dean grinning like a child when he saw a bee fly past. Castiel had said flowering plants of different varieties were good for the bees. Castiel caught Dean’s eye and they both shared a secret smile. And another kiss.

This was bliss, a bliss that Castiel had wondered if they’d ever achieve, seemingly a lifetime ago wiping the remains of a meat-lover's pizza from the box with greasy fingers. The day he’d walked out on the life he’d never wanted and fallen back into Dean’s arms. He’d half expected his mother to show up and try and drag him back, but he’d had no contact with her beyond the note he’d left her. It had been a short and sweet – _don’t contact me_ , even though what he really wanted to do was rail against her for taking ten years of his life for her own selfish ends. She had probably tried to contact him, but he’d disconnected every kind of communication she might have tried just after he had emptied his company bank account. Fair payment for robbing him of ten years.

He would have preferred that he and Amelia had an annulment but at least with a divorce, Naomi would have ensured a generous settlement, anything to keep the truth of it all quiet. And they had parted as friends, or at least, as friendly as they’d ever been for two people sharing a life for appearance’s sake. He’d come to Dean with surprisingly little, just a duffle bag of odds and end and a few shirts he particularly liked. Anything else could be replaced. When Dean had sold his place, he’d left with only the bare minimum too, as though the two of them had been waiting to run away with each other.

Castiel’s hand squeezed Dean’s lovingly, they had each other now. It was hard sometimes, Castiel had said that even as early as that first day together. The pizza had been cleared, Sam had retreated to his motel allowing the two of them to talk, a meaningful look at Dean that he wasn’t too far away if he was needed, the same sentiment applied to Castiel but with more warning behind it.

“ _It won’t be easy_ ,” Castiel had said, lying across the sofa in Dean’s lap, _“we’ve lost ten years together and I don’t think either of us can pretend we haven’t. You’ve hurt me, Dean,_ ” Dean had looked away at that, unable to meet Castiel’s eye so he’d reached up and turned his face back, so he could look into those green depths as he assured him, “ _but I know my family hurt you, I probably hurt you too. We need to agree to leave it behind us, no apologies, no throwing it at each other, it’s going to be there Dean, but_ ,” he’d pulled him down for a kiss then, “ _I’m willing to work through it_.” When he’d allowed Dean to straighten up, he’d taken the chain from his neck and slipping the ring from it, he slid it back onto Dean’s finger where it had belonged.

It hadn’t been easy, there had been some days it had almost broken them, however much they loved each other. Sometimes Castiel would get angry, furious even that Dean had left the way he had. Sometimes Dean would seethe that Castiel blamed him. Sometimes they’d both sink into despondency, regretting everything they’d missed out on each other. Counselling had helped, something Dean never thought he’d have ever said. It was Sam’s idea, actually, it was more a present. A course of couple’s counselling for them, he said it was because he was sick of dropping in and having to tiptoe around them both, but they knew it was because he cared.

Starting afresh had helped too. Dean closed the garage, opening a new one near their new house. He still restored classic cars, but his true passion was maintaining the Impala, and Cas’ Mustang, which he had grown quite fond of, even if it could never be as pretty as Baby. Cas went to town on their gardens (plural) so people could enjoy them as well as the bees in his apiary. He sold the honey, was always tipped generously for his lemonade and Claire loved it, which was an added bonus. Especially when the sprinklers were on and the sun was shining. It was strangely ironic that it had taken divorcing her mother to really spark a relationship between the two of them. Dean had helped, Claire had taken to him in a surly kind of way and responded well to Dean’s snarky comebacks, sometimes Castiel felt like he was parenting the two of them, but it was worth it.

“Hey,” Dean called, turning Castiel’s face to his, “you ok?”

Castiel nodded, softly, “yeah. Yeah, I’m good. You?”

Dean brought Castiel’s hand to his mouth and kissed it, “Yeah, Cas. Yeah, I’m good.”


End file.
